


The Light of Hope

by IShipThem



Series: Nadia [2]
Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipThem/pseuds/IShipThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Tutu was unimportant. Barely a minor character in the Story. No one remembered her once she was gone, no one thought to look for her when she disappeared in a flash of light.</p><p>Except that wasn't really true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was co-authored and beta-red by Opalascentegg on Tumblr (thank you so much!). It's the result of intense mutual rebloging and one intriguing question: what happened to the original Princess Tutu after she turned into a speck of light? 
> 
> It's also my first fic in the fandom and kjzhkjlfhfkj I'm excited.

 

Once upon a time, there was a man who died.

The man’s work was the writing and telling of stories, yet he did so with no joy in his heart but the dark satisfaction of bringing despair to his characters. The man’s magic abilities brought the worlds he spun into reality, and thus the King, the nobility, and the Kingdom’s rich all came to him, to get him to write them stories. But when they saw their wishes granted, stark terror of his power seized them and they began to abhor him.

To keep the man from spinning any more, the Book Man cut his hands off, believing that in doing so, they would protect the fabric of reality. However, the man wrote one last story before he died.

The last story the man wrote was about a brave and handsome prince who vanquishes a crafty raven. When the man died, the raven and the prince escaped from within the story. The prince took out his own heart to seal away the raven, shattering it and scattering the shards all over town, leaving him but a shell of what he once was.

Untroubled by the fate of the remaining characters of his story, the man failed to notice that which he had created himself and so cruelly condemned: a nameless Princess, uncaringly cast aside through his own spinning, had followed the Prince into the real world.

 _I wish the Prince’s heart would be restored,_ hoped the nameless Princess, with all that was left of her. Unbeknownst to the man, the Princess crafted her own plane to save the heart of her beloved Prince.

And yet, it was many, many years before anyone would speak the Princess’ name again…

 

* * *

_Golden Crown, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

 

“You had a weird dream?” Fakir repeated, looking up from his work and pulling his reading glasses out.

Ahiru pressed her lips together, her eyes still clouded with sleep, and nodded. Fakir pushed his chair back away from the desk and extended a hand towards her, just as the woman stepped towards him and accepted it. “Well, what was the dream about?”

“It was about…” Ahiru began, turning around and sitting down on his lap. “It was about a… hum… er…” She frowned in deep concentration, tucking her head under Fakir’s chin. “There was a…”

A long pause.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he teased, smiling and wrapping his arms around her.

She laughed embarrassedly, her cheeks glowing red. “I forgot.”

He kissed her cheek near her ear, making a loud noise, and Ahiru squirmed, indignant and giggling. “Don’t _do_ that, Fakir!”

“It’s probably normal that you’re having weird dreams,” he replied, cupping his hands under her elbow to keep her balance as he stretched his legs. “But do you want me to go back to bed anyway?”

“Eh? I thought you had to finish this tonight…” replied the woman, looking at the papers scattered all over his desk. Fakir shrugged.

“I’m almost done anyway,” he assured her, nonchalant.

“Is it really okay?” she asked, backing up to look him in the face.

“It’s fine.”

Ahiru smiled at him and Fakir carried her back to bed – she was back asleep nearly as soon as he got to the hallway.

 

* * *

_Siegheim, Ten Years Before The Prince Shattered his Heart_

 

The Small Dove’s Home for Orphaned Children was only one amongst many others scattered throughout the Kingdom. It wasn’t particularly special, nor did it stand out greatly, and its name was known only in its own neighborhood, the memories of grown children, and royal documents.

Still, it was deeply beloved by every single one of its pupils, precisely _because_ of all its simplicity and resounding normalcy. It felt like home.

Dove Home was built right next to the Royal Palace, a tiny building by its back wall, facing a busy, crumpled street, with houses squeezed high and not enough open space for a cart to go through. It wasn’t, perhaps, the most advisable place for an orphanage to be set, but it was close to everything of import. Many of the older pupils often found small jobs to be done in the vicinity, building their savings for the day they would leave.

It was also close to the Prince’s Academy of Ballet, as Nadia knew very, very well.

Nadia had been at the orphanage for a little while. She was seven, but already carried herself like a ballerina, her every movement gracious and effortlessly weightless. Her skin was of dark complexion, tanner than any other child at Dove’s, and her black hair fell in inky ringlets around her smooth face. She had freckles across her cheeks, large eyes and an elegant nose. Easy to love and eager to learn, she charmed every person whom she crossed paths with.

Nadia’s parents had been merchants, travelers that had set home at Siegheim many years before she was born. They had given her a local name on the hopes it would be only a minor detail: they had years and years ahead to teach her of a culture left behind.

Fate was not so kind.

Nadia became an orphan the night of a violent storm, when both her parents were snatched away by savage thunder and an ill-timed journey. Her first night at the orphanage found her deadly pale, a look of permanent, unchanging terror in her face that did not really fade until weeks later. Even so, from time to time, it could still be seen haunting the edges of her dance.

For Nadia danced in much the same way she drew breath: as if her body could simply not consider stopping.

It was why she knew so very, very well that Dove Home was near the Prince’s Academy of Ballet. She knew how many steps she needed to take and how many seconds it took to get there, and the exact number of bricks in its façade. She knew its date of construction, the names of its teachers and, most importantly, its admission rules. Those she knew better than anything else.

“You’ll do fine, girly,” Bertha reassured, the Home’s cook, patting her cheek affectionately.

“I feel queasy,” the small girl murmured, gripping her hand tightly and staring up, up, up, at the beautiful hand-written sign on the entrance. “Let’s go back. They won’t want me.”

“Says _who,_ I ask?” the woman snorted, reaching to pull Nadia up on her hip. The girl allowed her to, so tiny by comparison Bertha could easily carry her in one arm, which she did. “The Academy knows talent when they see it. They’ll be ecstatic at the chance to teach you.”

“The Prince shall think I am too different,” Nadia protested, as she was carried up the stairs. “He will ask if I can speak his language.”

“He will _not,_ for our Prince is surely more polite than some snotty schoolboy you met at the market.” The cook’s lips tinned with disapproval. “He’ll love you too.”

“And if he won’t?” asked Nadia, apprehensively, when they finally crossed the doors and left the sun into the cooler shade.

“Then he’s a fool, and I’ll tell him so myself,” Bertha proclaimed, matter-of-factly, making the girl’s heart swell pleasantly. They crossed the large, gleaming hall, towards the front desk, next to which a group of teenagers were chatting excitedly in their ballet clothes. They turned towards them when the two approached, their faces promptly melting at the sight of Nadia.

“Oh, look at how precious you are,” a boy sighed with blondish hair and eyes the color of tea. Bertha put Nadia down and she smiled shyly up at him as he leaned towards her. “Hello there, little girl. What’s your name?”

“Good morning,” she greeted, keeping one hand tight on the woman’s pants and smiling a tiny smile.  “I’m called Nadia.”

“Are you here to audition, then, Nadia?” asked one of the girls, who was wearing a green coat with yellow embroidery over her clothes, kneeling down to reach her level. “Trying to get in the same class as Prince Siegfried?”

Nadia blushed and hid her face against Bertha’s leg before nodding hurriedly. The group laughed gently, “awwwing” at her, then waved goodbye as their classroom door opened and people begun filling out of the hall.

“Making friends already, see?” Bertha smiled, patting her cheek again and Nadia smiled in her hands.

An hour later, she was standing alone in the studio, hair secured in a tight bun, stretching on the bar and slowly growing calmer. Ballet did that to her – let her slip in a quiet, not-quite material pocket of reality where she was made of air and stitched out of light. She knew her routines as a bird knew how to flap its wings, every centimeter of her body falling into place.

“You look as if you really love dancing.”

Nadia’s head whipped around. There was a boy at the door, wearing white ballet slippers and smiling gently at her. He came in, closing the door behind him and walked towards her. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she answered, smiling. The boy was about her age, thus, probably Prince Siegfried’s age. But that couldn’t be him. It was true he _looked_ like him, at least by what she’d been told, but he wouldn’t be speaking so informally to her. Would he? “Do you study here, too?”

“Yes,” the boy confirmed, reaching the bar and positioning himself behind her. “You will audition today, won’t you? I hope you’ll be accepted.”

“Thank you,” Nadia replied, starting when she realized he was mimicking her warm-ups. “I hope I will, too.” she hesitated, wondering. If this _was_ Prince Siegfried, it would be rude to ask for his name, but if it _wasn’t_ it would be odd _not_ to ask for his name. “Excuse me, but could you…”

“Oh, you are here already, miss Nadia!” a woman’s voice interrupted. A group of five teachers came through the door, and the girl froze up at once, swallowing a new wave of anxiousness. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Good luck,” wished the boy, touching her on the shoulder lightly before heading for the front of the class. And sitting on the chair reserved for the Prince.

Nadia’s breath left her for a few seconds. “I’m ready, ma’am.”

Siegfried smiled encouragingly at her.

 

* * *

_Siegheim, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

There was a special gleam to days that started like this, thought Rue, smiling wildly as she threw the covers away, hurrying to get out of bed. Mytho mumbled something in dazed semi-sleep, pushing the duvet away as if he couldn’t quite figure out how to command his fingers. Giddy, Rue threw the windows open, making way for the swan to enter the room, place the letter delicately on the small table by the window, and receive a quick petting before returning to the Palace Gardens.

“Mytho! Mytho!” called the woman, hopping on bed and shaking him excitedly. “Mytho, Ahiru’s new letter arrived! Wake up!”

Her husband mumbled something nonsensical again and she resisted the urge to laugh. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed earlier how terrible a riser Mytho was: he took so long to be truly awake Rue frequently needed to stop him from leaving the room pantless and walking into walls. Turns out that sleepiness and lack of a heart looked much the same.

“Mytho, wake up, Ahiru and Fakir wrote to us,” insisted Rue, amused, pulling the covers away from his face. “Wake up and read with me, it’s morning!” She dropped her weight on top of him and nudged his nose with hers. “I’m waiting.”

He cracked one eye open unwillingly. “I’m up.”

“You’re laying down,” teased Rue, laughing and pushing him into a sitting position. “Shall we?”

Mytho yawned for a good solid minute, then smiled at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  “Yes, let’s read it,” he agreed, as she nested against his chest and opened the envelope.

_“Dear Rue-chan,_

_Are you and Mytho doing well? I miss you a lot! Me and Fakir are working hard, but everything is going well. Today we are going to buy paint for the new bedroom! Fakir says we can buy yellow if I want, but Pique and Lilie say yellow is not a good color for a bedroom. Pique says I can’t use yellow because it’ll get dirty all the time, and Lilie says yellow won’t let people sleep and I’ll be up every night until I’m so tired I’ll trip over my feet on the stairs. I think she means the stairs at school, because there’s no stairs in our house._

_What do you think, Rue-chan? Is yellow no good after all…?_

_Fakir has also been writing a lot lately. He’s got a lot of deadlines to fulfill. He’s been falling asleep at his desk all the time. When the book is finished we will send you the first copy! The kids at my class are all talking about it. They really like Fakir’s stories. Last week, I took them to take a walk to the lake I lived on to feed the ducks. They were all very nice and it was super fun!_

_What have you been doing at the Palace, Rue-chan? Have you been really busy running the Kingdom? Have you and Mytho been dancing a lot?”_

The letter went on in the same cheerful manner, asking questions and telling stories, until the very end, when a paragraph stood out:

_“I had a weird dream last night, but I can’t remember what it was about. Fakir says it’s normal I’m having strange dreams, but… I don’t forget my dreams most times, and I forgot this one. What do you think, Rue-chan? Did you ever have strange dreams?_

_Please write back soon!_

_Lots of love,_

_Ahiru.”_

“Weird dreams?” repeated Rue, thoughtfully, resting her face against her palm. “I don’t remember having any _weird_ dreams… Mytho, do you remember if I had… Mytho!” she looked back over her shoulder to find her husband solidly sleeping against her. “I was _talking_ to you!”

She swung one of their fluffy pillows in his face, making him start and sit up with a jerk. “What happened?”

“I can’t _believe_ it.” huffed Rue, cheeks red, slipping out of bed in a very dignified manner.

Mytho blinked, surprised, staring at her back. “Was it something I said…?” he murmured to himself, before getting up too and following after her.

 

* * *

_Siegheim, Seven Years Before The Prince Shattered his Heart_

Nadia had been procrastinating for at least two weeks now, and if she didn’t do it soon, she felt like she would explode.

“I don’t see what you need to know _his_ opinion for,” mumbled Bertha that morning, as she kneaded the bread, practical as ever. “You know you should do what _you_ want to do.”

“Bertha, I think that dough is starting to get sticky,” Nadia remarked, drinking her juice at the kitchen table.

“Don’t you tell me how to knead my bread, young missy!” the cook sniffled, passing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Eat your breakfast or you’ll be late.”

The girl smiled at her back and put down her empty cup, anxiety inflating in her belly like a balloon. Time was running out for her to choose, but her heart simply wouldn’t let her, not as long as she couldn’t make sense of that one last bond keeping her in Siegheim.

Lately, whenever Siegfried came into her mind, her heart jittered in her chest, unhappy and unsure. She needed to talk to him about it, and she needed to do it soon, but it was hard remembering to do so in the little time they had together.

Siegfried was a Prince, after all. Even though they were partners at the Academy, he had many other subjects and other duties to attend to. Ballet was magic and authority for members of the Royal Family – it was a political tool and Siegfried couldn’t live it quite the same way Nadia could.

For her, ballet was the blood in her veins and the rhythm of her beating heart. It sung for her while she slept and murmured to her as she walked on the streets, and it filled her muscles with light and her bones with joy.

And now it called to her, but if Nadia didn’t at least _talk_ to Siegfried first, she couldn’t answer it. Siegfried, with his kind amber eyes and his awkward sincerity and his easy smile. She was still a child, Nadia knew. She didn’t really understand what her feelings meant. But they still existed, and they were still hers.

She had to talk to him.

“Siegfried?” called the girl, catching up to him at the end of class, while he was surrounded by their classmates. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Of course,” agreed the boy, smiling at the other kids and excusing himself politely. He followed after her towards the back of the class, tilting his head to the side curiously. “What is it?”

“I… wanted to tell you something,” Nadia replied, dropping her eyes and twining her fingers together to keep them steady. “It is very good news.”

Siegfrid’s smile broadened sincerely. “What happened?” he inquired, leaning slightly forward, and she grinned back at him.

“The Golden Quill Company came to see our last presentation, remember?” she asked him, and he nodded.

She took a deep breath and tried to steel herself for his reaction, whatever it may be. “They talked to the head of Small Dove, and they want to adopt me into the Company.”

Siegfried’s face lit up instantaneously, with that kind of open affection that made him so deeply loved by his people. “That is amazing news, Nadia! I am very happy for you.” His light eyes were warm as he said so, excited as if it had been him to be accepted. “I knew they would want to have you. It’s true everyone is very talented, but I think, in a few more years, you could even be named the Princess.”

Nadia kept smiling, but inside her heart dropped. That was the reaction she’d been fearing and – truth be spoken – expecting. Siegfried was genuinely happy for her. He cared for her. How many times had them danced together? They were friends, weren’t they? And yet…

“Are you not going to miss me, though?” asked Nadia, shyly, smoothing her tutu absently.

“I will miss you plenty,” replied Siegfried, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “But we may write to each other, and I will see you again soon, won’t I?”

 _Six years,_ the girl thought sadly, _is not soon at all._

“Prince Siegfried!” called the teacher, stopping at the classroom’s door. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I believe you have to leave now before you are late.”

“I’m coming right along,” he assured, smiling one last time at Nadia and bowing politely. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I want to know everything. Good bye!”

And just like that, he was off again, and Nadia was left standing alone in the corner.

All around the Kingdom, whispered in the back of Royal Balls and ballet performances, casually repeated at the market, reaffirmed in every family home and fondly remarked by Bertha, there was this simple truth: that Prince Siegfried loved every one of his subjects the same. He was fair and kind and dedicated, and did not differentiate.

 _But if he loves everyone the same,_ thought Nadia, persistently, every time they were near each other, _that also means he doesn’t love anyone specially._

She gripped the edges of her tutu hard. _Not even me._

The girl walked up to the lockets and picked up her bag, pushing it over her shoulder. Most of the other kids had already cleared out, in groups, or accompanied by their parents. She should hurry before Bertha began fretting: she was busy with dinner at the time Nadia left the Academy, but she had insisted on picking her up for years. At ten, the girl thought she was old enough to go back by herself.

But right now she actually really wished Bertha could’ve come to pick her up.

The Golden Quill Company was her best chance, Nadia knew. They were famous for taking in little hatchlings and delivering graceful swans. They could teach her everything she needed to know – they could take her with them and, if she just worked hard enough, help her become the best prima ballerina in Siegheim.

She could become Princess Tutu if she just _tried._

 _But I’ll miss my home,_ Nadiasighed, watching the way the pudles were reflecting the setting sun. She would miss Bertha and Small Dove and the Academy. And she would miss Siegfried.

And the thing was: Bertha would miss her just as much, but the Prince wouldn’t. She knew it for sure now.

 _I want to be Princess Tutu._ Thought the girl, her heart sparkling at the thought. She wanted it. She wanted it so badly.

Six years from now she would be back to the Kingdom. And then, would her feelings be clearer? When she was an adult, would she understand what she felt for Siegfried? Would she be graceful and wise and courageous?

Courageous enough to tell him how she felt. In six years. When she became Princess Tutu.

“And then,” whispered Nadia, folding her hands as if in prayer and bringing them close to her lips, “then I’ll tell him of my feelings.”

 

* * *

_Golden Crown, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

 

Ahiru was teaching class the first time a memory came to her.

She was in charge of the little ones’ class, and still only as teacher’s assistant, but Ahiru loved her job. She loved helping the kids go over their routines, teachig them how to warm up properly, and watchin them fall in love with ballet little bit at a time. Part of her job also involved monitoring and coordinating the kids’ various outings, recreational or educative – that day in particular they had come over to watch the older ones’ classes, and she was trying to get them to sit down in a line. They wouldn’t stop getting up to change seats, excited and giddy, and Ahiru had only finally managed to convince Helena to stay put when it happened.

Ahiru blinked and everything changed.

It was a different ballet class, the diversity of dancers suggesting a travelling company. She was practicing alongside two other children her age, their teacher marking the time by clapping and counting out loud. Her pointe shoes had finally gotten to that wonderful stage in their short lives where they were perfect and fitting as if made by fairies – they were starting rehearsal for a new play, and she felt as if her body weighted nothing at all.

“Okay, pups, let’s go over what’s not working here.” called Sérgio, making Lydia roll her eyes so hard they nearly popped out of her head – she hated when he called them “pups”. “Anything you’d like to add, Lydia?”

“Not at all, señor Sérgio.” smiled the girl, making Vergel cover his mouth with his hands to try and hide his laughter.

 _“Concentrate.”_ berated the instructor, gently tapping her forehead with two fingers. He offered a hand to Nadia, and she accepted it, following him towards the mirror. “Okay, Nadia, you first – show us how you did it, from the start…”

Wait.

_Nadia?_

 “Miss Ahiru?” called Helena, standing up and waving her hand in front of her face.  “ _Miss Ahiruuu!_ Are you okay?”

Ahiru snapped back to reality, where her tiny pupils were all staring curiously at their teacher, more or less used to her head being in the clouds. “Ah! I’m so sorry!” she stammered, as quietly as she could upon noticing some of the older students were also staring. “I’m fine, go back to watch the class, it’s okay.”

“Eh, miss Ahiru, you were spacing out on class again!” berated Vera, and the children giggled, their attention drifting back to the class one by one.

Ahiru touched her temple with her fingertips, blinking to get rid of the left-over images. What had just _happened?_

That was the first time she saw Nadia’s memories. And then – it kept on happening.

They were unsettling for all that they were surprisingly mundane. Just vivid memories that sprung fully formed in her mind as if they had always been there, glances into a childhood that wasn’t hers. They came as she went about in her daily business, triggered by a (un)familiar face, or the way the light played through the windows, or the smell of Fakir’s cooking. They were just memories. Only remembrances.

Except they weren’t _hers._

“And you’re worried it means you’re her reincarnation.” Fakir finished casually, wiping his brow with his arm and resting their shopping bags on the couch. Ahiru stared at him in silence long enough for her husband to turn and look at her. “What?”

“How did you know that, Fakir?” she asked, eyes large, making him blush.

“Well, what else could it be?” he replied, embarrassed, walking off towards the kitchen hurriedly. She followed. “Do you remember enough to help us, you think?”

“No…” sighed Ahiru, tiredly, sitting down at the table as Fakir pulled the chair out for her. “I’m remembering only things from when she was small. Mytho already told us all of those.” She massaged her ankles with her hands. “Fakir, why do you think I’m remembering these things now?”

He looked at her from over his shoulder, one hand braced on the open cupboard door. “I wonder why you are remembering them at all.” he replied, eyeing the food thoughtfully. "Is fish okay for dinner?”

“Errrrm…” Ahiru hesitated, embarrassed, and Fakir laughed.

“Do you want to eat meat and potatoes again?” he guessed, smiling, and she blushed.

“It’s okay if you want something else,” she reassured, getting up again to go change – it was very hot these days, and they had walked a lot.

“I don’t mind,” Fakir insisted, raising his voice so she could hear from the bedroom. “I can’t remember much from when I was Lohengrin. It might not mean anything.” he paused, and the house was quiet except for the faint sound of pots clanking against each other. “But I don’t know why you would be remembering it now. Nothing’s changed.”

Ahiru entered the kitchen again in her loose yellow dress and socks, with wide eyes and a look of wonder in her face. “But Fakir, something did change!”

They stared at each other for a long time before it finally dawned on him. _“Oh.”_ he breathed, dropping a pot to the floor.

 

* * *

 

_Siegheim, One Year Before The Prince Shattered his Heart_

 

Bertha was waiting for her at the door to the theater, clad in so many layers she could barely move, looking very grumpy at the weather indeed. As if she could somehow intimidate it into being less nasty, as she did with children who did not wish to eat their vegetables.

The sight of her felt to Nadia as the first breath of air after surfacing – she jumped from the coach before it had fully stopped, nearly giving her companions a heart attack, and ran towards the woman with her scarf billowing in the wind behind her. “ _Bertha!_ ”

Bertha smiled widely as Nadia threw her arms around her neck, gathering her close and kissing the top of her head lovingly. “Oh, girly, I’m so happy to see you,” she sniffled, crushing her into the hug.

“I missed you _so_ ,” agreed the girl, burrowing her face in the woman’s bosom. Bertha patted her back.

“C’mon, c’mon, let me see your face. Now, that’s better.” She smiled and cupped Nadia’s cheeks affectionately. “You have grown as I wouldn’t believe! I take my eyes off your for a second and you turn into a woman.”

The teenager laughed, their breath making mist in front of them. “It was much longer than a second. It felt to me as if it was forever.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe,” Bertha teased, passing an arm over her shoulders and guiding her inside. “You must have been awfully busy with all your new admirers.”

“I was not,” Nadia protested, embarrassed, trying to snatch back the baggage the woman had taken from her hand. “I can carry it!”

“Oh, shush, let me,” Bertha berated, tapping her shoulder and gripping the bag firmly. “How was your journey, girly? Nothing happened, I hope?”

Nadia shook her head. “It was tiring and long, but safe.” She hesitated, trying not to look around too obviously. “How have been things going in here? There haven’t been any attacks?”

“Not yet, there haven’t. They wouldn’t dare, with Prince Siegfried here to protect us.” replied Bertha, smiling when she caught sight of her charge covering up her obvious concern. “He’s well, my dear. It is late, but I’ll eat my arm if he won’t come tomorrow to greet you.”

“Do you think so?” Nadia bubbled subsequently reigning herself in. “I meant… I would understand if he did not come. He must be terribly busy.”

“Not for the future Princess Tutu, I don’t believe he is,” the cook teased, and the teenager couldn’t hold back an elated smile.

“That is not official, yet,” she objected, but the look of pure delight in her face said otherwise.

“The best prima ballerina in the Kingdom.” whispered Bertha, her eyes filling with stubborn tears. “Well, of course, I’ve been telling you so for years!”

Nadia giggled and burrowed her face in the woman’s shoulder. The Kingdom faced dire circumstances right now: attacks increasing in number and cruelty, people’s fear growing stronger and darkness creeping in from the borders. As Princess Tutu, she could help Siegfried fight the Raven. She could bring hope and light back to people’s heart.

Dance was magic, and Nadia could feel it at her fingertips.

It was a dire task ahead of her, but she was ready for it. Bertha smiled proudly at her and the young, yet-to-be announced Princess prayed silently for the future of her home.

 

* * *

_Golden Crown, Right After the End of the Story_

“But you are not her, are you?”

Ahiru stared up at Mytho in silent wonder, her expression mirrored in Fakir’s and Rue’s faces. Slowly, she quacked sadly and shook her head, looking up at Fakir for back-up.

“Ahiru was a duck first.” the boy confirmed promptly, holding her close to his body. “But I don’t understand, Mytho. Why you never mentioned any of this before?”

The Prince bowed his head, worried, his eyes grave and his fingers intertwined with Rue’s as if seeking support. “To be honest, it was hard remembering anything about Nadia until I regained the last Heart Shard. I had the feeling something was different about Princess Tutu, but I couldn’t recall what.”

“So Ahiru didn’t look like Nadia at all?” inquired Rue, still looking quite shaken, leaning closer to Mytho’s side. He shook his head.

“The story hardly mentioned her, but we knew each other for years. I had no idea what she was going through – when she disappeared, I thought the ravens had killed her. To find out Drosselmeyer had been toying with her fate as well…” 

Rue put a hand on his arm, and he turned to her gratefully, as Fakir and Ahiru also looked at each other. “The story said she turned into a speck of light, though. Wouldn’t that mean she has…” he paused, unwilling to speak the words. “Died, either way?”

Rue nodded, thoughtfully. “If Princess Tutu was a title, then Ahiru turning into her didn’t mean she was turning into someone else.” She looked down at the small duck as a flash of understanding passed her eyes. “You were only using her powers.”

Ahiru fretted in Fakir’s arm, unsettled. If there was any chance the original Princess Tutu was still alive, they couldn’t abandon her now – especially not if she had really been using Nadia’s magic all of this time.

“We’ll do our best to find out what’s happened to her,” Fakir promised, as if reading her thoughts, nodding at Mytho seriously. He smiled.

“Thank you, Fakir.” the Prince said, and Ahiru quacked in agreement.

 

* * *

 

_Siegheim, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

Being Rulers to a Kingdom was no easy work, as Rue had found out soon after returning to Siegheim with Mytho. It could be, however, very rewarding work. She spent most of her time visiting hospitals and orphanages and farms facing plagues and remote villages which were struggling to receive outside supplies. There was always more to be done, and new demands to be met, and challenging obstacles to overcome – but there was always, as well, a fierce, fiery determination inside of Rue.

“Princess Rue will find a way to solve this,” declared the Kingdom’s citizens, full of confidence and simple trust, when a problem grew bigger than their abilities. There were plenty of stories circulating about Princess Rue’s amazing deeds.

“She was the reason the city survived the flood, some years back.” agreed a group of dock workers during lunch break. They nodded at each other, remembering fondly how the Princess had scared the daylights out of an incredulous, mouthy teenager, through a single icy glare.

“It’s such a pleasure to have a Princess who _listens_ to us,” sighed the palace staff, especially the older ones who had more or less taught her how to run the place after her marriage. “She’s so polite and sweet. It’s wonderful the Prince found someone like her.”

“Oh, the children are absolutely crazy about her,” confirmed the head of Small Dove, remembering the times when Princess Rue had at least three children battling for her lap, and the way they clung to her skirt like little ducklings. “Prince Oliver is always such a darling, too.”

So, yes, it was taxing and tiring at its best, but ultimately Rue loved what she did.

Once in a while, however, it was pleasing to take time for herself and her family.

“Oliver, don’t run off on your own!” called Rue, as the dark-haired toddler dashed towards the sand, making him freeze and begin dancing in the spot.

“ _Mummy,_ walk faster!” he begged, running back and clasping her hand with both of his. “Let’s play!”

“Don’t pull your mother, son, you’ll make her fall over,” warned Mytho, sweeping the little boy up and making him kick and squirm and giggle in delight.

“I want to swim with _mummy!”_ insisted Oliver, making grabby hands motions towards his mother. She giggled.

“All right, but then you must promise you won’t go deep in the water,” she agreed, taking him from her husband and resting him against the curve of her hip. Mytho sat near the waves to watch them as they pursued each other through the shallow waters and jumped waves with linked hands.

It was a tranquil day, silent except for their shouts of joy and the calling of seabirds. The sky was covered by clouds, but the sun shone hotly behind them, making them white and blinding. The water was pleasantly cold, contrasting with the scalding air and sand. Rue’s face was open and full of laughter; she looked relaxed and free as she swung Oliver back and forth, gripping his hands tightly.

“I’m thirsty,” complained the little boy after a while, his bangs dripping over his sunset-orange eyes. Rue put him down and mussed his hair lovingly.

“Let’s sit with Daddy for a while then, okay?” she suggested, trying to keep her wet hair from falling in her eyes. Oliver agreed and run up back to Mytho at once, climbing in his lap as soon as he reached him.

“Daddy, when are Aunt Ahiru and Uncle Fakir coming to play with me again?” demanded the little boy, putting his hands on Mytho’s cheeks and looking at him sternly.

“They can’t travel now, Oliver, remember? We told you they would come and visit next spring.”

“Aw, that’s too long.” he complained, sitting down and pouting at his parents. Rue laughed as she settled next to Mytho, and he passed an arm around her waist. “I want to play with Aunt Ahiru. She’s funny.”

“You say that because you are always trying to make her turn into a duck, Oliver.” Rue berated gently, giving him the water canteen. “You know you shouldn’t do that.”

The boy pouted harder and rested his face on Mytho’s chest. “I won’t do that anymore. Uncle Fakir told me not to,” he protested, with much dignity.

Rue’s face softened. “Well,” she looked up at Mytho. “I suppose we _could_ visit _them,_ couldn’t we? You don’t think they would mind?”

Mytho shook his head. “We could go over for a quick visit. I think the Kingdom would be fine for a few weeks.”

Oliver crowed in delight and threw his arms around his parents’ necks, squeezing them and making them laugh and nearly lose their balance.

 

* * *

_Siegheim, Nine Months Before The Prince Shattered his Heart_

 

“Princess, there’s been an emergency!”

Nadia looked up from the floor where she was stretching, alarmed, and saw Lohengrin standing breathless at the door, his sword by his side and his hair disheveled. His dark skin, the same shade as hers, was drenched in sweat, and his black eyes were bright with adrenaline. The Princess stared, horrified, at his armor – even the shiny emblem of the Royal Guard was covered in blood and feathers – as Lohengrin hurried towards her in broad steps

“What happened?!” demanded Nadia, accepting his hand as he helped her to her feet.

“The ravens are heading for the city!” panted the Knight, leading the way out of the Academy and into the streets filling with panicked citizens. “Prince Siegfried has left to intercept them, but he needs you to protect the gates!”

The Princess’ blood stilled in her veins. “The whole perimeter of the city?!” she gasped, dodging the running townsfolk and shivering in the still chilly weather. “I’ve never done anything so big before!”

“I’m sorry to ask you such dire tasks so abruptly, my Lady,” replied Lohengrin, looking over his shoulder, “but we need you to do this.”

Nadia gulped, feeling the coldness of his armor through their still joined hands. The Knight squeezed her fingers tighter, as if trying to transfer his courage, and she nodded briefly.

Lohengrin smiled a sour grin at her; if anyone else had told Nadia of this news, the Princess feared she would not have been able to steel herself. But Lohengrin understood her in a way no one else did. From the day they had met at her coronation, when he had just became Siegfried’s Knight, she had known they had the same wish in their hearts.

“The Prince is counting on us,” she whispered, and he nodded, pulling her harder to make her hurry up.

 _Being Princess Tutu is not about the magic you receive_ , chanted Nadia in her mind, _but about the responsibilities you must bear._

They stopped at the main gate, citizens flooding in like a single entity, and Nadia drew a deep breath, light enveloping her for the moment it took to change into Princess Tutu.

Lohengrin threw her a grave look. “Good luck, my Princess,” he bid, kissing her hand before running to meet his soldiers marching towards battle.

Nadia looked up, her breathing coming in short from the long run, and spotted the black mass of noise and danger approaching the town. The sounds of ravens screaming were beginning to fill the air, and the sun was being slowly drowned in ominous shadows.

 “You will not harm my people, Raven,” whispered the Princess, closing her eyes and centering herself.

And then she began to dance.

Dancing as Princess Tutu was, in many ways, the same as dancing as herself. Her body recognized it and welcomed it, and her heart began beating to the rhythm of the music. It was a part of her, as vital as her blood and bones, filling her with life and air and purpose.

But it was also magic, and now Nadia could always feel it ghosting over her skin, ready to be called upon when needed. _So please,_ she whispered, letting the prayer and will translate in her moves, _help me protect my town!_

Golden light shimmered around the houses and streets, growing and brightening until it became a dome around the city. Even now people were pouring in through the gates, searching for protection as the terrifying sounds of battle arouse like an earthquake.

And Nadia danced.

And danced.

The sun set behind the horizon, leaving the Kingdom in complete darkness, except for the golden dome that stood defiantly, the Palace at its center with its white walls and promises of protection. The Ravens clawed and attacked the light, hundreds, thousands of black birds with red eyes viciously trying to defeat it.

But they could not, for Nadia still danced past the sunset.

The people gathered around her near the front gate, clutching their loved ones and throwing shaky looks at the distant sky. They whispered their prayers for the Princess and called out their support for her, in awe at her beautiful dance.

Nadia’s toes began bleeding, and the ravens screeched louder, demanding her heart, but she clenched her teeth and made her fingers delicate, _as if rolling a piece of paper._

And Princess Tutu danced until she could not feel her body anymore, for her people were counting on her. Her Prince was counting on her. And although the light occasionally flickered or dimmed, it never disappeared, shining softly over those it protected, a promise to the soldiers that all would end well.

“Princess,” Lohengrin’s voice called, sounding so tired it was amazing he was still standing, from miles and miles away, “you may stop now.”

Nadia’s muscles gave way like springs being released. The golden light died abruptly, collapsing in on itself and allowing loose raven feathers to rain down on the city. The Knight caught her by her elbows before she could hit the ground, staining her with blood and dirt.

“Is it finished?” the woman sighed, laying a thankful hand on his forearm as he helped her to his feet.

Lohengrin nodded, too exhausted for words. The people that had gathered around Nadia rushed forward, yearning to touch their Princess, thank her for all that she’d done, offer help for her bleeding feet that had stained her slippers. The Knight raised a hand, however, stopping them immediately, and shook his head.

“Prince Siegfried is already heading back,” Lohengrin informed them, struggling to make his voice reassuring and strong. “He has requested we reunite at the castle to weigh our losses and I must escort Princess Tutu there. I’m sorry, but we have no time to waste.”

“I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m able,” Nadia promised, smiling reassuringly at them.

Still, they would not let them leave until she was properly clad in a coat padded with wool and had changed her bloody slippers for brand new shoes one young widow insisted on giving her. “My beloved died fighting the ravens,” she explained, biting back tears. “She was brave as a lion, my Lady, and we met at one of your presentations when we were young. Take them, please. It’s the least we could do.”

Nadia accepted them, Lohengrin’s hand on her elbow still keeping her up. “I appreciate it immensely,” she murmured, curtsying to the woman.

Weariness was settling in her bones like a physical presence. The Princess felt as if she were about to faint at any second. “Let us go,” she told the Knight, biting back winces of pain at the first few steps. “The Prince is not hurt, Lohengrin?”

The man shook his head, looking much older, even though he was only a few years her senior. Nadia wished he would speak to her – his familiar accent, the same as her parents, was always soothing – but Lohengrin looked as tired as she felt, and there was still much to be done before their duties were over.

The sky was turning pink, and Nadia longed to see her family. “Did the Palace take in the children of Small Dove?” she asked, looking up at the Knight.

“Yes, of course.” Lohengrin gave her an understanding look. “They are fine, Nadia.”

The woman let out a deep breath and picked up her pace, eager to be finished with her obligations and back at her home to see Bertha.

It took her far longer than she would have wished to be able to do so. The situation was chaotic and desperate when they at least arrived at the castle: the citizens were terrified, there were grave losses among the knights, and the Prince himself looked grimmer than Nadia had ever seen him.

“Siegfried, I’m terribly sorry,” she was finally forced to say, when they had a brief moment alone walking from one trouble to another, laying a hand on his shoulder to halt him. “But could I please be excused for a moment? I haven’t seen Bertha yet, and she must be really worried for me. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Siegfried blinked as if the notion was profoundly foreign to him. “Oh,” he breathed, looking dazed and pale, “oh, yes, of course.” He agreed, rubbing his eyes to chase away the sleepiness. “I should be the one to apologize. Of course you should make sure your family is well first.” He looked away, eyes dark with worry and heavy thoughts, and Nadia’s heart bled for him and for the responsibilities in his shoulders. “Thank you for protecting the people today, Princess. It was more bearable to keep on fighting knowing they were out of danger.”

The woman smiled sadly. “When have you stopped calling me by my name, my friend? We are alone now. There’s no need for titles.”

He returned her gesture weakly. “I am sorry. You are right.” There was tenderness in his voice that was like a balm for her. In that split second, they were but children again, spending their break time together, smiling at each other full of innocence.

But the moment passed, and they were still who they had been before. The Prince of a Kingdom being devoured by a monster, and an orphan Princess with bleeding feet. “I had hoped we would be together after I returned from my travels.” Nadia confessed, dropping her eyes. “But I am still glad I am able to support you, Siegfried. Please, don’t ever hesitate to ask for my help.”

Siegfried took her hand and squeezed it. “I am glad that we are friends, Nadia,” was all he said, in his blunt honesty that could be as endearing as it was hurtful. “Forgive me if sometimes I neglect that.”

His touch scorched the skin of her fingers. Nadia’s heart spiked in her chest suddenly: it had occurred to her very vividly, that they _were_ alone right then. Alone as they hadn’t been in months now. She’d barely been able to talk to him after being coroneted: the Raven’s attack kept them from one another and robbed her of a chance to reconnect with Siegfried, after so many years spent apart.

Lately, it seemed as if she would never manage to get the words out.

It was terrible timing, and a thousand excuses were already building up in her head – but she had vowed to do this, and were she to lose this moment, when would another one come?

“Actually, Siegfried,” began Nadia, feeling her blood running faster and warming her cold cheeks, “there is… something I wish to tell you.”

The Prince looked at her curiously, his gentle amber eyes as attentive as they had been when they were eight years old and learning their choreography together. In the midst of all the blood that was suddenly flooding their lives, she had found that his eyes were often the only thing that held her together.

“I wanted… Siegfried, I have wanted to tell you for a long time. That I…” she took a deep breath to steady herself, reaching out with her other hand to hold his, the air between them full of heat and expectation. “That I am in l…”

_“Nadia!”_

The scream frightened her so, the Princess nearly felt her heart deserting her body. She flinched violently and backed away, and the Prince’s hand flew to his sword in a second. They were out next to the front doors of the palace, and the scream had come from Small Dove’s director, Mrs. Nicoletti. She was hurrying towards them as fast as her advanced age allowed her to, her grey hair falling unkempt over her face, clutching an oversized tailcoat.

“Mrs. Nicoletti,” sighed Nadia, placing a hand on top of her heart. “You frightened me to no end. I am sorry I could not come to you before, but see, I am…”

And then the look on the woman’s face froze Nadia’s words in her lips. Mrs. Nicoletti stopped next to her, looking frail and shaken – a look that frightened the Princess further yet, for she remembered the old director to be as steady as the foundations of the Palace.

 “What happened?” she whispered, face draining of color, stepping away from Siegfried.

Her director pressed her lips together, eyes filled with fresh, raw pain. “My Princess, I am devastated that I must tell you,” she murmured, her voice leaving her throat watery and low. “But… they have just confirmed it… oh, my Lady… I’m so sorry, but Bertha… Bertha didn’t make it to the city gates.”

Nadia stared blankly at her.

“How do you mean?” she asked, a nervous smile making her lips tremble. She glanced at the Prince, searching for support, but his face had filled with sadness, and she shook her head, laughing anxiously. “Why would Bertha need to _make it_ to gates?”

 “My Princess…”

“Bertha _lives_ here!” shrilled Nadia, backing away further when Siegfried reached for her arm. “She was at the Home! Her holidays didn’t come until next week!”

Mrs. Nicoletti was trembling, and she also tried to touch her, but Nadia shoved her hands away. “My Lady, I excused Bertha for the day,” explained the woman, regret coloring her words. “She wanted to visit a friend who was sick, and I’ve been trying to locate her all night…”

“No.”

“Lady, I’m sorry, but…”

_“Don’t.”_

“Nadia, Bertha’s dead.”

_No._

Nadia’s knees gave out under her. She fell to the ground, a high buzzing sound filling her ears, ice and wind creeping into her heart, freezing her lungs in her chest. The world’s colors faded, sounds and thoughts became silent, and nothing made sense anymore. Because Bertha, her beloved Bertha, her mother in everything but name – oh, Bertha, _my Bertha is gone._

Siegfried was talking to her. He was touching her, but she couldn’t feel him.

Nadia’s heart shattered like ice.

Tears forced their way out. Her arms trembled and sobs shook her, grief washing over her like waves. There were hands on her shoulder and distant echoes in her ears, but all Nadia knew was the growing absence inside her, its edges raw and red with pain.

She sobbed into the Prince’s arms, cried on his chest and held him tight enough to dig her nails in. The awful truth kept sinking deeper and deeper, and Nadia gasped for breath that wouldn’t come, and _Bertha, oh Bertha, please, not Bertha_.

 _You should not wish for that which you should not possess._ Whispered a man’s voice in her ears, sniggering wickedly. _Your role is to be the Prince’s adviser and friend. What makes you think you were destined to be together?_

Nadia started at the words, unsure if they were real or a mere hallucination. It wasn’t the Prince’s kind voice in her ear, and it wasn’t Bertha, who would never tell her these cruel things. Then who…?

 _Princesses should be pure and selfless._ Insisted that oily, malicious voice. _Now! It wouldn’t do if you were to distract the Prince from the Raven with your selfish feelings, would it?_

Nadia sobbed without understanding, clinging to Siegfried still and staring over his shoulder trying to locate the mocking speaker. As she watched, a single swan feather floated softly to the ground…

_You can never speak of your love for the Prince, Princess Tutu._

…only to vanish in a speck of light.

_The man started laughing._

* * *

_Golden Crown, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

“Ahiru! Ahiru! Ahiru, what’s wrong?” Fakir shook her by the shoulders, his voice rising when she wouldn’t answer. _“Ahiru!_ Wake up!”

She opened her eyes with a loud gasp, blinking through tears and staring up at him with confusion. “What…?”

Fakir let out a long breath, leaning against the bed. “Don’t scare me like that,” he sighed, helping her up when she began to sit. “I’ve been calling you forever.”

Ahiru sniffled and looked up at him with watery eyes. “Fakir…”

The man leaned forward immediately. “What happened?” he asked, gently, cupping her face as she sobbed. “Hey…”

“Dro- Drosselme-yer…” Ahiru answered, burying her face in his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “He killed… the ravens… they killed mom! I mean, Nadia’s mom!” Fakir patted her hair and collected her in his lap, waiting for the worst to pass. “They killed her, Fakir…”

The man kissed her forehead, his hand going up and down her back soothingly until her crying slowly began to fade. “You had another dream?” he asked in hushed tones, drying her face with his sleeve. Ahiru nodded. “Do you want me to make you hot chocolate?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, kissing him before he could get up.

A couple minutes later they were sitting in their exceptionally tiny kitchen, a hot mug in front of Ahiru, their hands joined together in Fakir’s lap. The woman sipped at the milk slowly, concentrating on the sweet flavor instead of the still vivid memory.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ahiru glanced at him, then looked back at her mug. Fakir caressed her hand with his thumb. “Fakir, do you remember what you said when we visited Mytho and Rue-chan the first time?”

He watched her face, her wet eyes, the way her freckles contrasted with the paleness of her cheeks, more worried than ever about these strange new memories. “What, exactly?” he asked softly, thinking hard, but coming up short.

“You said,” Ahiru replied, sniffling, “we couldn’t know if Drosselmeyer created the world of the story, or if he just messed with it, the way he did with our world.”

Fakir nodded, slowly. That was a conversation he’d had with Mytho on the Palace balcony, while Rue had been excitedly telling Ahiru all about the gardens. He hadn’t known she’d been listening. “I remember that.”

“He didn’t create it,” she declared, intense and wet, new tears flooding her eyes. “He didn’t create it at all. Mytho and Nadia, he couldn’t… Drosselmeyer can’t have created them. He can’t have. Fakir…” She looked up at him, trembling lips and anger and fierceness. “He was too horrible to create them.”

Fakir reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Ahiru pressed herself against him again. “We’re going to find out what happened to her,” she whispered into his shoulder, steel in her voice, even as it trembled in the slightest.

“Of course we will,” Fakir agreed. “Together.”

Ahiru sniffled one last time. “…I dropped the mug,” she pointed out, looking at the small pool of milk on the floor, and they began laughing just as the first birds began to chirp.

 

* * *

 

_Siegheim, The Day The Prince Shattered his Heart_

 

Nadia felt cold.

She stared down at the city from the Palace balcony, wrapped in an old coat that was too big for her, feeling the wind cut her cheeks. It was all so quiet these days. People stayed inside now, except for the absolutely necessary tasks. In the distance, she saw various small clusters of brave workers trying to patch the holes in the town’s walls, working as fast as they could, glancing at the sky every few seconds.

Cold, thought Nadia, unfeeling, still watching her home city. Cold, empty, destroyed – chunks of grass missing everywhere, houses abandoned right and left, blood staining the street stones like a curse. It looked to her as a ghost town.

“Shouldn’t you be resting, Nadia?”

The Princess looked over her shoulder. Siegfried was approaching her, wearing the simple clothes he kept under his armor, his sword by his side, looking as if he hadn’t slept in years. Nadia waited for him to reach her before answering.  “Shouldn’t you?”

That did not make him smile anymore, not his sad smile, not even his grim, slightly bitter smile that had seemed so wrong on his face. The Prince simply leaned against the railing, staring up at the clouded, gray skies and rubbing his injured wrist absently. “I can’t hold a sword properly like this,” he murmured, not looking at her.

Nadia averted her eyes and wondered when this had happened. When had they became so exhausted and sore that battle was all they ever talked about – what fell from their lips naturally, what occupied every space of their minds, the bitter backbone that kept them straight every day.

But it was foolish to pose that question when Nadia knew the answer so agonizingly well.

The Golden Quill Company had fled months ago. So many people had fled, or at least tried to, there had been immediate panic at the Palace, fear that the ravens would simply follow them, like wolves. They hadn’t. The Raven, the real demon, had seemed to lose all interest in the lives of the common-folk. Now, after rivers of blood had been spilled. Now that all those Nadia had loved – her family and friends from Golden Quill, the children of Small Dove she had grown up with – had either fled or been killed.

Nadia looked down at her hands, her feet and legs killing her from too much standing up, and wondered if there was anything at all left in Siegheim for her.

“You can hold a sword with either hand,” she told Siegfried lowly, pushing her hair behind her ears. “What’s truly worrying you, my friend?”

The Prince looked up at her, and his eyes hurt Nadia so badly she wished to weep. Siegfried would be worth staying, worth rebuilding a home for where there was only the shadow of one. But she was afraid. Wanting him had already cost her far too much – she couldn’t risk it anymore.

“Perhaps fighting the Raven as we have been so far won’t work,” he replied, and in his every word Nadia heard the underlying pain. Siegfried had not been himself since… she forced herself to finish the sentence. Since Lohengrin had died.

“You sound as if you have another idea,” the Princess murmured, trying not to dwell on the surprisingly sharp pain that Lohengrin’s absence brought her. The look in the Prince’s face was starting to worry her. “Siegfried, what is it?” she demanded, stepping towards him and ignoring the loud protest of her muscles.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, not fully, and fear began to clog Nadia’s heart immediately. “Siegfried, _what is it?”_ she insisted, reaching out to hold his hand, closing her fingers tightly around his.

The Prince’s face was heavy with a graveness that was much too old for his age. “If I cannot defeat him, there may be a way to seal him away.”

Nadia’s eyebrows rose in confusion. “How so? We have tried it before, my Prince. The magic we conjure is never strong enough.” She could see Siegfried hesitating, unwilling to tell her. “Tell me, Siegfried. I am Princess Tutu and your oldest friend. I pray I will never see the day you believe you can lie to my face and I won’t realize.”

He looked her in the eyes, then let out a great, exhausted sigh and nodded in agreement. “There is a spell that could be powerful enough to bind him, Nadia,” he told her, warily, squeezing her fingers back. “If I use my heart to seal him, I could finish this war.”

It took several seconds for the meaning of his words to truly sink in. When it finally did, it was as if her heart had frozen over and dropped like a block to the ground. “You _cannot_!” she gasped, horrified, rushing forward and cradling his hand against her chest. “Siegfried, you absolutely cannot! Under no circumstances! That spell is _forbidden_ , and don’t you see… don’t you know what will happen to you if you used it?!”

There was grief etched in the Prince’s eyes, the same pain she’d seen on his face after Lohengrin had died. Nadia wondered, for a petty, bitter second, if Siegfried was thinking of anyone but himself: if this oh-so-noble decision of sacrificing himself had less to do with ending the war then it had with his Knight’s death. Maybe she had been wrong in thinking Siegfried truly didn’t love anyone differently – maybe he simply didn’t love _her_ any differently.

The moment passed. She was being unfair. Siegfried was _exhausted_ , all of them were. There had been so much death and bloodshed and they had lost so many people close to them. Most of all, Nadia knew how much the Prince loved his people, how much he blamed himself for the Raven’s attacks. She cupped his face with one hand.

“Siegfried,” she whispered, gently, but firmly. “That is not the solution. You know how dangerous this type of magic is – forbidden, shunned. You could never use it. It’s not you.”

“It’s my heart he wants, Nadia,” the young man replied, covering her hand with his. “I was told. I know so. The reason the ravens won’t leave this town, the reason they haven’t followed the people… it’s me. It’s my heart.”

Nadia stared at him, her lips half-parted in shock. And then, a painful memory stirred, a voice so terrifying she had tried her best not to think about it: he had been told so? By whom? Certainly not the man… not the unknown man whose laugh still chilled her bone marrow… had he been a man at all? Could it have been…

_“THE RAVEN!”_

Bells began ringing loud as the apocalypse, making them jerk and break apart. Darkness was rising in the horizon, as familiar as it was dreadful, and Nadia’s head whipped towards Siegfried, her body already crying in protest as she turned into Princess Tutu. She opened her mouth to ask the Prince for instructions, when she noticed the look in his eyes.

And she knew. Oh, she knew, she knew from years of loving him, of watching him in silence, of yearning and knowing there were millions of people that already owned his heart. Nadia knew, and Princess Tutu knew – the best prima ballerina, blessed and burdened with magic only to protect her people.

“Thank you, Nadia,” Siegfried whispered, his soft golden eyes fixing on hers as if seeing her for the last time.

“Siegfried…” Nadia tried, reaching for him in panic, only to lose him by an inch of fabric as he jumped from the balcony. _“NO!”_

The Princess jumped after him, following on the petal trail the Prince left behind. “SIEGFRIED! WAIT! DON’T DO IT!”

He was too far ahead of her, much too close to the Raven, that horrible demon with its blood-red eyes. Nadia screamed until her throat went hoarse, trying to reach him, trying to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t stop.

Siegfried, the last loved one she had left, was slipping through her fingers and Nadia could not stand it. “PLEASE DON’T DO IT!” she cried after him, as the gleam of his sword created a brief gleam in a sea of dark skies. “SIEGFRIED, PLEASE – I LOVE YOU!”

Her heart missed a beat.

Nadia tried to breathe, but there were no longer lungs to store the air. Her blood did not run in her veins anymore. Her fingertips became lighter, lighter and paler until Nadia couldn’t feel them at all.

Dancing always made her feel as if she was made of air and stitched with light.

And as her body dissolved into both air and light, Nadia realized that this wasn’t exactly true. For air and light could not feel, could not love as deeply and as painfully as she had. Air and light could not yearn to save anyone as much as she did. They could never look into their beloved’s face, or touch him, or feel his pain with him. Air and light were not alive as she had been alive.

Siegfried was so far away Nadia didn’t know if he had even heard her.

And she hadn’t told him goodbye.

* * *

_Golden Crown, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

The night of bad sleep had really gotten to her. It was already past lunch time and Ahiru was still yawning. She sleepily poked at the sandwich Fakir had just made for her, wondering if it would hurt his feelings if she took a nap instead, when someone knocked at the front door.

“I’ll get it!” Fakir called from the living room where he’d been working the past few months.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll get it.” she called back, yawning yet again. It took all sorts of acrobatics and contortions for Fakir to get up when he was using the coffee table to write. Ahiru had given up on sitting there ages ago – they really did need to get a bigger place.

She forgot to check the peephole before opening the door – as always – so when the little boy lunged at her, she quacked loudly and nearly fell over.

“ _Auntie Ahiru!”_ Oliver squealed in delight, just as Rue screamed _“Oliver, carefully!”_ and nearly squashed the little boy to grab her friend in time.

“ _Rue-chan!”_ Ahiru gasped, staring at her with wide eyes. Oliver was holding her around the waist, his head on her belly, and Rue was holding onto the door frame with one hand while grasping Ahiru’s wrist firmly with the other. “Oliver!”

Rue let out a long breath and pulled Ahiru to her feet. “Sorry about that.” She smiled, then took the little boy’s face in her hands and looked at him sternly. “Oliver, what did mummy tell you about jumping on your auntie?”

“I didn’t jump!” protested the little boy, squeezing her tighter. “I just hugged her really, really hard!”

“That’s the same thing, son,” Mytho pointed out, coming up next to Rue and smiling at his old friend. “It’s very good seeing you again, Ahiru.” He blinked, finally noticing her face. “Ahiru?”

The woman had turned to Fakir, who was still struggling trying to get up from between the tight spot between center table and couch. “Fakir,” she hiccuped, her eyes welling up and her lips trembling. “Rue-chan is here.”

He smiled gently at her. “Yes, she is.”

“And Mytho and Oliver.”

“I can see that.”

“Here we go.” Rue smiled, affectionately, stepping forward to hug her as Ahiru began crying loudly.

“Why is auntie Ahiru crying, daddy?” Oliver wondered, confused, letting Mytho scoop him up as the three of them entered the house.

“She’s happy to see you,” the Prince explained, closing the door behind him and smiling. “Your mother was like that, too.”

“Was not!” Rue retorted, sitting Ahiru down and patting her hair to calm her. Mytho smiled at her, mellow, and she rolled her eyes. Ahiru kept on crying. “Oh, it’s okay, Ahiru, it’s all right,” she soothed, turning back to her friend.

Fakir smiled at Mytho and accepted a delighted Oliver, who was already struggling to climb on someone’s lap. “You two have an oddly good timing,” he told his friend, as his nephew wrapped his arms around his neck. “Hello, Oliver.”

The little boy smiled widely at him.

 

* * *

 

_Golden Crown, Nine Years After the End of the Story_

Nadia swung her legs, sitting on the dock by the lake, feeling the sun warm her shoulders and the fresh water cooling her feet. The wind was blowing throgh the leaves, and the sky was clear and blue – the Raven had left her completely claustrophobic about heavy skies. She was glad she didn’t need to see them anymore.

Sighing happily, Nadia lay down on the wooden planks and let her arms fall above her head. She had stopped slumping like this years ago, when she was still a child, and it felt wonderful being able to let all her muscles go loose at once. No one would see her. No one would tell her Princesses didn’t slouch like that. There were no duties and no expectations and no enemies, and the relief was so sweet it made Nadia’s head spin.

“Na-chan!” a cheerful voice called out, and the woman sat up, excitement electrifying her body.

“Ahiru!” She beamed, raising her arms to greet her as the other woman ran towards the lake and hugged her tight. “I was wondering when you would fall asleep!”

“Did I take too long?” Ahiru worried, sitting down next to her. Nadia shook her head.

“No, I just missed you, that’s all.” She smiled broadly, giddy. It was almost a year since that she had figured out how to talk to Ahiru, but the novelty still hadn’t worn off. It had been so long since she’d last had a friend to talk to!

Ahiru smiled embarrassedly, rubbing her neck, cheeks and ears red. Nadia regarded her fondly, thinking it was funny that her friend was now older than her. She’d met Ahiru over nine years ago, and sometimes still expected to see the fumbling thirteen year old instead of the married woman she was now. Not that she’d changed that much, but there was now an underlying confidence to her gestures that Nadia didn’t tire of looking at.

Meanwhile, she had been seventeen for… a long time. Nadia wasn’t sure how long anymore.

“Na-chan, we’re at the lake again, aren’t we?” Ahiru asked, crossing her legs and taking in the view leisurely. She was still wearing her pajamas, the blue-and-white stripped shorts that Nadia was more or less sure used to belong to Fakir, and the white tank top she knew _for sure_ had belonged to Fakir. It amused her that Ahiru didn’t even think of changing when she was visiting.

“Yes,” Nadia confirmed, holding her hair away from her eyes and splashing water with her feet. “I love it here best of all. After all, this is where I met you!”

Ahiru turned red as a tomate. “That’s…” she stammered, missing the words, and Nadia begun to laugh, making her start giggling too. “I love being here, too.” Ahiru leaned in close, whispering secretively. “This is where Fakir kissed me for the first time, you know?”

Nadia giggled. “I know.” She smiled, and Ahiru blinked, regarding her with surprise.

Her face screwed up with intense curiosity, and then, blurting it all at once as if trying to maintain her courage, Ahiru asked, “Na-chan, do you remember when you met me?” and her friend nodded.

“You can ask me about those things, Ahiru. I don’t mind,” Nadia insisted, smiling reassuringly. She became thoughtful, staring out towards the water.

Everything had become so strange after Drosselmeyer had turned her into a speck of light. She couldn’t have known then it had been him, but she heard his laughter just as Siegfried looked back and noticed Nadia hadn’t erected her barriers around the city. He’d called after her, trying to find her and fight the Raven at the same time, and she hadn’t been able to answer him.

As mere light, Nadia had seen him fight the Raven, and had felt when something changed – when time slowed down and stopped flowing, when something in the world broke, and Siegfried’s fight refused to end. She’d watched as they fled the story, not knowing exactly what was happening, only that she _couldn’t_ stay behind if the Prince still hoped to follow through with his plan.

And then….

Ahiru was watching her with worry. Nadia shook her head to drive the memories away. “I remember meeting you,” she reassured, warmly, smiling at her. “I’d been living in Siegfried’s Heart Shard for a long time, and I was always waiting for a chance to restore his heart, but I couldn’t do anything on my own.” She slid closer to Ahiru. “When Drosselmeyer gave the Shard to you, I was so happy! I knew we could do it together.”

Ahiru beamed, her face open like sunshine, clasping their hands together. “Because we both wanted to give Mytho his heart back, right?” she asked, excited, her blue eyes sparkling.

“Right!”

“And because we are friends!” she added enthusiastically, and Nadia felt joy soaking her heart like a warm bath.

“Right!” she agreed again, letting the moment stretch a little while longer before pulling on her hands. “Ahiru, let’s swim together!”

“Eh?!” Ahiru blinked, confused.  “But I thought you said you couldn’t swim?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Nadia giggled in delight. “We are in a dream, I can do anything I want here. Let’s go!” She pulled Ahiru’s hands again, throwing her weight back, and Ahiru followed, flailing and then laughing as they hit the water, splashing everywhere.

Nadia had always wanted to learn how to swim, but she never had the opportunity. There weren’t any lakes near her hometown, and there had been no time during her travels with The Golden Quill Company. She had been too busy practicing – and she had loved it, every second of it. But that had been a long time ago, before Bertha died, before the war had worn her thin and made her tired.

Ahiru splashed water at her face and took off. Laughing, Nadia chased after her, and they swam carelessly as the sun stretched endlessly, keeping on that right side of bright and hot. Finally, breathless, still giggling, and wet to the bones, they sat on the grass to wait for their clothes to dry off. Ahiru leaned against a tree, stretching her legs in front of her, and Nadia rested her head on her lap.

“Is this okay?” she asked her friend, looking up at her, and Ahiru smiled, nodding.

They stayed silent for a few peaceful moments, eyes closed, listening to birds chirping and each other’s breaths. Nadia felt so relaxed she wondered if she’d fall asleep – Ahiru had that effect on her.

“Say, Na-chan,” Ahiru called, when Nadia had been nearly dozing off. “Why do you think I can’t remember meeting you when I’m awake?”

Nadia blinked her eyes open and stared up at the leaves above her. “I think…” she answered, slowly, “I think it’s because the story is over. There’s no magic in this town anymore. Just a little bit, right here.” She smiled up at Ahiru, who blushed, embarrassed. “But why do you ask?”

Ahiru was unusually silent for a while, her lips pressed tight. “Mytho is worried about you.”

Nadia sat up, her heart beating hard in her ears. She tried to calm it down – Siegfried was not the Prince she had known anymore. She had turned into a speck of light trying to stop him from sealing away the Raven, and he had noticed it, had stopped long enough to look around and realize she was gone. But by then, Drosselmeyer was dead, and the story wouldn’t move forward. Her sacrifice had not saved him, but Nadia had seen for herself when he’d been saved by someone else.

She wished nothing but happiness for Siegfried and Rue, but even after so long, it was hard not loving him. “He is?” she asked, her voice faint, and Ahiru nodded.

“He’s worried you are still a speck of light. We don’t know what happened to you, Na-chan.” Ahiru bit her lip. “We think I could be your reincarnation, like Fakir, but it’s not true, and I don’t remember you, so I can’t tell them.”

Nadia looked away thoughtfully. Oh, how dearly she missed Siegfried. And yet, it was as if her old life – Princess Tutu, Siegheim, Small Dove – were a distant dream that she was glad to wake from. There was nothing left in there for her, Nadia knew. This was where she wanted to be now.

But it occurred to her: there was one last duty she still hadn’t fulfilled as Princess Tutu.

“Ahiru…” Nadia began hesitantly, looking up at her. “You know, when a new Princess Tutu is crowned, it is the old Princess’ responsibility to pass her magic on to her.” Ahiru watched her, waiting for her to finish, and the woman bit her lip. “I didn’t do it. I should have given it back to Siegfried when we returned the last Heart Shard – originally that magic came from the royal bloodline – but…”

She reached out and held Ahiru’s hand. “I was afraid.” she admitted. “I was afraid of the Story ending, too. I was afraid of returning to Siegheim and being Princess Tutu again. And I… I was ashamed.”

Ahiru’s eyes widened and she immediately shifted closer, leaning forward to look her full in the face. “But why?”

Nadia shrugged sadly. “Because I’m Princess Tutu. It’s my responsibility to protect my people. And Siegfried was still willing to come back – to fight the Raven again even after all that we went through. He was brave enough to do that, and I wasn’t. I was too scared and… and too tired.”

“But you helped us fight the Raven!” Ahiru protested vehemently, squeezing her hand. “You helped me and Fakir, Na-chan. All of us together saved everyone. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nadia smiled at her. “I couldn’t have done it without _you,_ Ahiru.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “When Fakir told you he would stay with you, I thought… I thought if _I_ could stay with you too, I could let the story end. I miss Siegfried, but I…” she smiled, her heart quieting down. “Being here with you and Fakir makes me happy.”

Ahiru threw her arms around her and Nadia giggled, hugging back. “I love you, Na-chan.”

“I love you too,” the woman replied, closing her eyes as she gathered courage to ask he next question. “That’s why… there’s a favor I want to ask of you, if you could.”

Ahiru backed away so that they could look each other in the eyes and nodded. “What’s it, Na-chan?”

Nadia looked around at the lake. She spent so many years a speck of light now – most of it waiting in Siegfried’s Heart Shard, but also a long time doing not much of anything, just hanging around Golden Crown and keeping an eye on Fakir and Ahiru. She’d watched her friend writing Ahiru back into a human, had watched Fakir start turning into a duck like her because of it, and seen Siegfried visiting with his new Princess and child.

And Nadia thought she was ready to try again.

 

* * *

_Golden Crown, Ten Years After the End of the Story_

Rue always wondering what was it about Ahiru’s yard that affected Oliver like a sugar overload. Her son was running about so fast he had tripped and fallen face-first about fifteen times already, but that didn’t seem to bother him. She had no idea what exactly he was chasing, but it sure involved a lot of shouting. Not even words. Just loud, continuous shouting.

“I really don’t know why he does that every time,” Rue told Ahiru as they watched him go, their heads moving as one to follow his movements. “I think he just likes it in here.”

Ahiru smiled a bit unsure. “It’s good he likes my house, right?” Oliver’s foot got caught in a bush and he sprawled on the ground again. “Oliver!”

“I’m okay!” the boy called, getting up and continuing running as if nothing had happened. He was already completely filthy. Rue laughed fondly.

“Well, you were saying?” she asked her friend, sipping her juice again and crossing her ankles. Ahiru watched Oliver for a couple more seconds.

“What?” she answered, distracted. “Oh, right!” She turned to Rue with certain difficulty, the lawn chair a bit unsteady under her. “So then we took everything out of Fakir’s office to make room, and we put the book shelves in _our_ room and a lot of his writing things on the bottom of that china cabinet Karon-san gave us when we got married, but then we had to move the _plates_ out, and there was no room in the kitchen for them, so we left them on top of the table, but it only sits two, so when we were having dinner the other day, Fakir had to eat with his food on his lap, so then…”

Rue began laughing, nearly snorting juice through her nose. “Ahiru, slow down, I think I got lost about five sentences ago.”

“ _Eh?_ Was I speaking too fast?” Ahiru squeaked, resting her juice cup against her belly, and Rue nodded, still laughing. Ahiru laughed too. “Sorry!”

Rue pulled her knees to her chest. “Hm, it’s okay.” She smiled, putting her empty cup on the grass and enjoying the privacy they had at Golden Crown. It was hard to be really, truly alone at the Palace. “Don’t you two think of moving to a bigger place? It’s going to get crowded in here once the triplets come along, won’t it?”

Ahiru’s hand was caressing her belly absently. Rue was sure she had not been half as big when she was pregnant with Oliver (Mytho disagreed, but Mytho had never been pregnant, so how could he know?) “It’ll get really crowded.” said her friend, pulling a face when one of the babies kicked hard. “It’s already really crowded.” she added, and Rue laughed. “But we are close to the lake and we have a big yard. Fakir and I really like this house.”

 Just then, Oliver came to an abrupt halt next to Ahiru, and very gently rested his face against her stomach. “Hello, baby cousins,” he said, cupping his hands around his mouth, “come out and play with me soon!” He gave Ahiru a sloppy kiss, than run inside loudly calling after Mytho: “Daddy, I’m hungry! I want a biscuit!”

Ahiru and Rue “awwwwed” after him for another minute before returning to their conversation. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Rue recalled, crossing her legs and staring at her friend curiously. “How can you know for sure you’re having triplets?”

Ahiru stared back blankly, sipping her juice through the straw. “I don’t know,” she replied, as if she had no idea at all where Rue had taken that idea from.

Rue nearly fell off her chair. “What do you mean you don’t know?!” she asked, her mouth hanging open. “You’ve been telling me for ages it’s triples, and you’ve bought three of everything and you picked six baby names – you were not only guessing, were you?!”

Ahiru kept sipping the rest of her juice and put the cup down thoughtfully. “ _I know_ it’s triplets,” she corrected, tapping the glass rhythmically. “I just don’t know how I know. I feel like I know them already.” She closed her eyes. “I think I’ve been dreaming of them.”

Rue watched her, letting out a long breath. “Do you think it’s because of Nadia?”

Ahiru smiled. “Maybe,” she said placidly, shifting again on the chair.

“Do you want to go back in?” asked Rue, noticing her discomfort. “Your back must be killing you from sitting out here.”

“Ahhhm…” Her friend made a face, one hand resting on her belly and the other clasping the chair’s arm hard enough to make the knuckles go white. “Rue-chan?”

Ahiru had that look on her face, the one that spelled “slightly freaked out and completely clueless”. Her freckles were standing out sharply as her face paled and her blue eyes widened – which was honestly becoming a little bit scary. “What is it?” Rue asked, blankly, trying to keep calm.

“When are you supposed to call the midwife, again?”

Rue stared at her. “When your contractions come every five minutes.”

There was a beat of silence. “I think we should call the midwife.”

“Oh.” For a moment, Rue didn’t move a muscle. And then: “Oh my God, _FAKIR, GET OUT OF THERE, THE BABIES ARE COMING!”_

 _“WHAT?!”_ the man shrieked from inside the house, and everything promptly descended into chaos.

 

* * *

Mytho had ended up alone in the living room after Fakir, Ahiru, Rue and the midwife had rushed into the couple’s bedroom. He had dropped Oliver over at Karon’s, reassured him a thousand times they’d tell him as soon as the babies were born, then sat down to wait. And wait. And wait.

Rue came in and out of the bedroom, fetching things and giving him brief updates. “This is going to take a while,” she warned, a bit breathless, opening and closing cupboards at lightning speed. “Multiple births are complicated.”

“Will she be fine?” he asked, anxiously. “Will the babies?” Rue smiled, pecking him quickly.

“Of course they will. Perfectly fine. The triplets are plenty big, already. Besides…” she shrugged, as if that much should be obvious. “It’s Ahiru.”

Mytho sighed, sat back down, and kept waiting. His mind was working on its own volition, still dwelling on the letters Ahiru and Fakir had sent him – wondering whether the woman’s strange dreams and memories really mean what they thought it meant.

He wished he had known. About Nadia’s feelings before. Known that she’d been around all that time. But until he’d gotten the last Heart Shard back, it had been so hard remembering Nadia. _The Prince and the Raven_ barely mentioned her. And he worried.

There was a commotion behind the bedroom door and Mytho jumped, awkwardly hovering around it, but for a long time nothing else happened. Finally, Rue stepped outside, holding a tiny bundle with one arm. “It’s a boy! And he’s all healthy,” she panted, handing him over to Mytho. “Can you take care of him for just a second?”

“Of course,” the Prince agreed, accepting the baby with the utmost care. They had already cleaned him and, he supposed, nursed him. Rue kissed Mytho again, then went back inside, her black hair slipping from her ponytail.

The little boy was the tiniest baby Mytho had ever held. He had Fakir’s dark hair and brown skin, but he couldn’t see the baby’s eyes as they were closed. He fussed grumpily for a few moments, but calmed down soon enough. Mytho rocked carefully back and forth, affection swelling in his heart.

“His name is Johan,” Rue whispered, returning only a couple minutes later, sounding tired. “Johan Ente. The oldest.”

Mytho shifted so Rue could hold the baby again. “Is Ahiru okay?”

The woman nodded, talking lowly. “Tired, but he came along just fine. She still has a way to go, though. I’ll just put this little guy in bed. Will you watch him?”

“I will,” Mytho answered, following her to the babies’ nursery, painted yellow after all. Rue put Johan down and the Prince sat next to his crib, settling in for another long wait.

 

* * *

 

 _Ahiru,_ smiled Nadia, kissing her in the cheek just as Ahiru was about to wake up, _I hope we will see each other again soon!_

* * *

Rue helped maneuver the baby girls in Ahiru’s lap, the two of them resting against her bent legs, side-by-side. Fakir’s arms were around her, helping her hold them up, steadying her. The babies looked exactly alike, and both resembled their mother – the same bright ginger hair, freckles, pale skin, and blue eyes. They were tiny and perfect and Ahiru felt as if she could begin crying all over again.

Their midwife, an extremely capable lady with grey hair, kind eyes and soothing voice stretched for long minutes, rubbing her temples. “Well, I’ll be dammed,” she sighed, smiling and touching Ahiru’s shoulder’s gently. “Three healthy babies and on your first try, too. You are very lucky, missy. Haven’t seen anything like it.”

Ahiru sniffled, and Fakir simply nodded – words seemed to have completely forsaken him. He kissed his wife’s hair, holding her even closer and brushed his thumbs against the babies’ little hands. Rue couldn’t stop looking at them either, even as the midwife gave her a long list of recommendations.

The sun was peering through the windows, and the girls were crying softly, sounding more grumpy and tired than anything else. “Hey, Fakir,” Ahiru whispered, when Rue stepped outside with the midwife and left them alone, “they are ours.”

“Yes. Yes, I… they are.” The man gulped, as if that utterly unsettled him. In a good way. “We should…” He kissed her, in the lips, across the nose, on the temple, exhausted and exhilarated. “Johan, we should…”

“Yeah,” Ahiru murmured, barely daring to move as to not disturb them. “And… and Mytho.” She looked up at her husband. “Fakir, I think I remember everything now. About Na-chan.”

Fakir nodded again, accepting this in silence. There were soft shuffling sounds from the living room. Finally, Rue came back with Johan, as if reading their thoughts, and they could finally hold all three babies for the first time. Mytho and Rue squeezed themselves next to the bed to look at the triplets, three little bundles wrapped in blankets.

“She asked me to…” Ahiru began, softly, shifting the focus of attention to herself. But she did not look away from the babies; she loved them so much she felt as if she could stare at them forever. “I mean, Na-chan. I remember her.”

She looked up, met Mytho’s eyes, full of expectation, and smiled. “She asked me to tell you she was sorry for not saying goodbye.” The woman shifted, wanting to dry her eyes, but she had no free hand. “But that she wanted a fresh start this time. You know…”

Ahiru looked at Fakir, and he immediately understood – carefully, slowly, he took the baby girls from her arms. “This is Sybil Canard,” she said, as her husband handed the older girl over to Mytho. “And this is Anna Pata,” she added, when Rue received the youngest baby from Fakir.

Mytho looked at her, understanding in his eyes, and a bittersweet smile crossed his face. “I think,” Ahiru confessed, adjusting Johan in her arms, “that Na-chan is right here with us right now.”

Rue let out a long breath, and they stayed silent, letting it really sink in for a couple minutes. “But,” she interjected at last, looking confused, “which one of them is her, Ahiru?”

“Ehhh…” Ahiru blushed to the root of her hair and looked down at Johan. “I don’t know?”

For a second nobody said anything. And then they all began to chuckle, as quietly as possible. “I think it’s probably better that way,” Fakir said, caressing his son’s hair, and Mytho nodded.

The baby girls in their arms looked nothing like the Nadia she knew – the girl who’d looked at him with huge black eyes the first time they met, only to recompose herself in under a second, and who’d danced as if she’d been born on ballet shoes. Mytho had not loved Nadia as he loved Rue, but he’d truly missed her.

If this is what she had chosen – the Prince was happy for her.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Sybil,” he whispered to the baby in his arms. Rue brought Anna close to her face and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Sybil yawned deeply and closed her eyes, promptly falling asleep; Anna shook her hands in that sloppy ways newborns move, and Johan made low gurgling noises against his mother’s breast.

Outside, the sun was slowly clearing away the morning mist.

 

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a Princess who was turned into a speck of light.

The Princess had loved the Prince of her Kingdom for many, many years, but he did not return her feelings. They had been forced apart by a cruel man whose magic powers controlled the reality in which they lived. The Princess had been warned to never confess her love for the Prince, for it would distract him from the war with the Raven demon.

However, as it became clear the Prince could not defeat the Raven, he attempted to cut out his own heart to seal the demon away. Desperate to save him, the Princess recklessly confessed her love, only to be turned into a speck of light. Her dying words could not stop her beloved, and she was forced to watch as he roamed the earth with no memory or purpose.  

But the Princess’ will to help him was so great, it called upon the Prince’s lost feeling of Hope. Unknowing to anyone, they became one and the same, and waited for the one who could at last reunite the pieces of the Prince’s heart.

The cruel man who had toyed with their lives had long ago died, yet his magical powers lingered. He took the Heart Shard of Hope, and presented it to a little duck who had been called into his Story. The little duck was granted the Princess’ magical powers, and with them, she devotedly reunited the pieces of the Prince’s heart.

The little duck did not know this, but the Princess had been with her every step of the way. She had watched her Prince fall in love with one that was not her, and felt the little duck’s pain and happiness alongside her. The Princess recognized the reincarnation of the Prince’s Knight, her dear and missed friend, and marveled when his love for the little duck caused him to give up his sword in favor of taking up the pen.

Together, the little duck and the writer not only restored the Prince’s heart, but also defeated the cruel spinner of stories, setting the Prince’s new Princess free.

After sharing the little duck’s heart for so long, the Princess felt she no longer wished to be whom she had been before. Upon the Raven’s defeat, she chose to stay with the little duck and the kind writer whom she loved; to talk with her in her dreams and watch over their happiness.

But, at last, the Princess began to yearn for more. She wished to feel the wind again, to dance one more, and to be held by her loved ones. And as she so dearly loved the little duck and her old friend, the Princess wished to be reborn into their family.

The little duck loved the Princess as well, and so she agreed.

And they all lived happily ever after. 


End file.
